Corpus Tamrielicum - The Imperial Library

[30.2] KING EDWARD II
"And the rest of the castle, with the help of my friends."
"Ooooohhhh. Can you levitate? Will you show me?"
"Not so fast. I kept a holding spell on us all night to keep us on the dragon's back. Until I'm
rested I couldn't light a candle with the aid of a match."
"Oh. Well, I'd still rather be like the ArchMagister than be a fighter."
"Hah! It'll be news to the ArchMagister that he cannot fight! I hope he'll find time to show
you how to wield a staff. No better weapon for early training. And no better trainer. Now, of
the four you saw before you, which would you say could best the others?"
Edward thought carefully for several minutes. "Sir, my judgement is poor indeed, but if you
would still have my answer, it would seem that the one who claims the title Champion of
Tamriel must be the best. Yet must not the ArchMagister be your master in magic? And
trained to arms as well, it seems. So which should prevail? Could any mortal stand against the
dragon's fire and claws and teeth? And I know naught of the unicorn, save that it is fleet and
has a very sharp horn, and hooves as well. So I will guess the unicorn; it had the mildest
manner. And since you asked the question it seems the unlikely answer may be correct."
"Well answered, youngling! The unicorn would win easily in any single close combat. No
mortal or even dragon can move quickly enough to land a blow and it cannot be burned or
touched by any magic or elemental power. It's hooves are deadly and a single touch of its horn
will kill any enemy, although the horn itself will burn away. The most powerful can
regenerate it within moments, however."
"And of the four the Champion of Tamriel would probably be the loser against any of the
others, although the title is no idle boast!" Moraelyn is not accustomed to being so outclassed.
"My manners may have suffered in consequence."
"Milord King, I am most deeply in your debt. You have done me great honor and service. If
ever
I can repay you, I will. Forgive my brash words and ill manners. I have dwelt among the rude
and boorish. And it seems I have no father, unless I may call you so?" The elf held his hands
out to the boy, who placed his own in them. Edward's feeling of distaste was quite gone as if
by magic the thought drifted through his mind and then he released his hands and clasped
Moraelyn about his waist. The elf's hands stroked the dark hair and clasped the thin shoulders.
"I thank you, my wife. After only five years of marriage, you have presented me with a fine
son, nine years of age. Remarkable. In fact...magical."
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